Yan Yihuan felt his whole body alternating between hot and cold. Although he was exhausted, his sleep was extremely restless. One moment he felt as though he was at his home in Linjing, but just as he relaxed, he suddenly remembered he should be in the palace. His heart skipped a beat, and he tried to wake up in a panic, but his eyelids felt glued shut.
After an unknown amount of time in a daze, he gradually woke from the chaos. He felt someone feeding him water and carefully wiping away the moisture he couldn’t swallow in time.
“Who…?”
Yan Yihuan felt he had used all his strength, but his voice was only a mumble. A clear but unfamiliar voice spoke beside him,
“Third Young Master, are you awake?”
Third Young Master?
The form of address made Yan Yihuan’s heart jump. He suddenly opened his eyes, but what he saw was neither the Residence of King Yan nor the imperial palace. And the person calling him was someone he never would have expected. It was Tong Ziruo of Qingxiao Temple.
“Master[mfn]师父 Shifu – Refers to one’s teacher.[/mfn],” Tong Ziruo turned his head in delight, “Third Young Master really is awake.”
Seeing Yan Yihuan struggle to sit up, Tong Ziruo was just about to reach out to help when someone beside them gently stopped him,
“Let this servant do it.”
“Huai De?” Yan Yihuan stared blankly at the person who came to his side. In that instant, he understood that he was still within the Emperor’s control. At the same moment, Xu Xinyao’s face, eyes still open in death, burst into his mind without warning.
A sharp, throbbing pain struck him. Yan Yihuan clutched his forehead in agony, yet still tried to push him away, “Go away…”
“Eunuch Huai De, let me do it instead.”
Huai De’s hand was still frozen in midair when Ming Zhang stepped forward and reached out too. The moment Yan Yihuan saw Ming Zhang, the urgency and reliance in his eyes caused a flicker of surprise on Huai De’s face. It lasted only an instant, and he quickly resumed his gentle smile and took a half-step back.
“Then I’ll trouble Lord Ming.”
Huai De watched as Ming Zhang helped Yan Yihuan sit up, carefully settling him against the head of the bed. Throughout the process, Yan Yihuan clutched Ming Zhang’s arm tightly and would not let go. His deliberate avoidance of Huai De in particular only deepened Huai De’s doubts.
Even so, he let nothing show on his face. Instead, he withdrew a little farther, turned, and walked toward Tong Ziruo and the Daoist beside him.
“Daoist Zhengyang.” Huai De respectfully said with a bow. “Grand Historian Yan has just woken up. Perhaps you should rest for now and question him once he is feeling better.”
The Daoist addressed as Zhengyang was already white-haired and white-bearded. Although lean and wiry, he was remarkably upright, yet his face appeared to be only in his thirties. Indeed, just as people said, those who cultivated the Dao retained youthful features, their age impossible to discern.
“Daoist, please stay.” To everyone’s surprise, Yan Yihuan spoke up to stop him, “I would like to speak with you.”
At this, Zhengyangzi[mfn]正阳子 (Zhengyangzi) – A Daoist title in which Zi (子) is an honorific meaning “Master.” Literally “Master Zhengyang.”[/mfn] halted and gave a slight nod, then looked toward Ming Zhang, who was still seated by the bed,
“Lord Ming, please step outside for now.”
Ming Zhang knew that the Emperor had deliberately added this instruction to the edict. Although he very much wanted to know the secret surrounding Yan Yihuan, he still patted the back of Yan Yihuan’s hand, which was gripping his own, “I’ll go out first.”
Yan Yihuan felt that the atmosphere was strange, but he was far too tired to think much about it. He nodded obediently and withdrew his hand.
Before long, only Zhengyangzi and Yan Yihuan remained in the room. Even Tong Ziruo had left.
“Is there something you wish to ask, Daoist?”
Yan Yihuan had sensed since childhood that his family was hiding things from him, but he had a broad mind. If they did not say anything, so be it. He lived just as happily all the same.
The arrival of Daoist Zhengyang was no coincidence. Yan Yihuan even wondered whether he himself might be a bearer of misfortune, one who had caused Xu Xinyao’s death.
Seeing Yan Yihuan’s unease, Zhengyangzi did not question him directly. Instead, he smiled and said, “Back then in Linjing, the Daoist whom Third Young Master encountered was my junior brother. His Daoist name was Yuzhenzi[mfn]玉真子 (Yuzhenzi) – Same concept as Zhengyangzi.[/mfn]. Does Third Young Master still remember him?”
Yan Yihuan had been extremely tense, but hearing him speak this way, he suddenly felt much closer to him, and his mind settled.
“I remember him. Daoist Yuzhen.”
“Then does Third Young Master know that in the former dynasty there was a State Preceptor named Xue Qianyi, whose Daoist title was Daoist Buzhou?”
Yan Yihuan nodded, “I’ve heard stories about him since I was young. Everyone said that Daoist Buzhou was a celestial immortal.”
“In fact, Qingxiao Temple was founded by Daoist Buzhou’s disciple. He is also my patriarch,” Zhengyangzi said. “The lineage has now passed down to me, the sixth abbot. At last, the one we have been waiting for has arrived.”
Yan Yihuan’s heart jolted. Something felt as though it were about to surface from his heart, making him deeply uneasy, “The one you have been waiting for…?”
“The one we’ve been waiting for is you, Third Young Master.”
“Waiting for me… waiting for me to do what?”
“When you were young, Third Young Master, your weak constitution was because you were born with one less soul than ordinary people. That soul was borrowed from you in your previous life.”
“Huh?” Yan Yihuan was completely stunned. He tried hard to process what he had just heard. If such strange, mystical words had come from anyone else, he would certainly have scoffed at them. But hearing them from Zhengyangzi, he could not help but sit up a little straighter.
“I would like to hear the details.”
“In your previous life, you were fated to die young. At the brink of death, Daoist Buzhou helped you borrow one soul from a future life to prolong your years. That soul was then shared with your beloved. After accompanying one another for several decades, they died on the same day. That soul was buried with them, waiting for its rightful owner to come and reclaim it.”
“Wait!” Yan Yihuan stared in disbelief. “I’ve heard this before. Isn’t this the story of Gao Changfeng, Emperor Xuanwen of a former dynasty, and that palace attendant of his?”
It was not only Yan Yihuan who had heard this story. It was widely circulated, with many adapted storybooks, and was known to almost everyone.
“Daoist Master, are you saying that the palace attendant in the legend who spent his entire life with Emperor Xuanwen was me?!”
Daoist Zhengyang slowly nodded, looking at Yan Yihuan’s stunned expression, which was just as expected.
It was not that Yan Yihuan did not believe in ghosts and gods. It was just that being told all at once that someone he had listened to as a legend since childhood was actually himself felt far too unbelievable.
“Third Young Master should also have heard that after the two of them passed away, they were not buried in the imperial mausoleum. Instead, in order to avoid the eyes of the world, they chose a secluded place unknown to others. That soul was hidden there as well.”
“After that, each abbot of Qingxiao Temple would pass down a scroll. What was written on the scroll was the location of the mausoleum, but…” Zhengyangzi showed a look of regret. “During the transition between the old and new dynasties, Qingxiao Temple suffered a devastating blow, and the scroll was lost amid the flames of war.”
“And what will happen if I do not retrieve that soul?” Yan Yihuan asked blankly, “I do not feel that anything is wrong with me. Will it be fine if I don’t retrieve it?”
“Without that soul, Third Young Master’s fate becomes extremely special.” As he spoke, Zhengyangzi’s eyes never left Yan Yihuan, taking in every subtle shift of his expression. He thus concluded that Yan Yihuan did not know much.
Zhengyangzi hesitated for a moment and did not elaborate. Instead, he changed the subject. “Of course, it is not only a matter of fate. Third Young Master will also remain childlike at heart, unable to understand love.”
“Unable to understand love?” Yan Yihuan pointed at himself in astonishment, disbelief written all over his face. “My feelings for my parents and family, no, not only my parents and family. Anyone who treats me well, I return with sincerity. How can that be called not understanding love?”
“This love is not that kind of love,” Zhengyangzi said gently. “What I mean is the one who will spend a lifetime with Third Young Master.”
The author has something to say:
The part about the previous life comes from my other book, 应不识, which tells the story of the pair Gao Changfeng and Ye Shiyu. If you’re interested, feel free to check it out, but not reading it won’t affect your understanding of this story.
As for little Yihuan, it’s because his soul is incomplete that he’s a bit foolish and clueless, and also why he can’t understand the Emperor’s affection for him.
